


Back at it Again with the Nonsense

by badwitchtypeshit



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Art, Bad Decisions, Best Friends, Blogging, Canon Rewrite, Coffee, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Identity Reveal, LGBTQ Themes, Lila Rossi Lies, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Violence, Music, New Miraculous Holders, Original Character(s), Other, Separation Anxiety, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwitchtypeshit/pseuds/badwitchtypeshit
Summary: In which the author decides to make Miraculous Ladybug more realistic. Somehow.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine/Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Ivan Bruel/Mylène Haprèle, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Everyone
Comments: 23
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

To say Marinette is a nervous wreck is an understatement. The understatement of the century, in fact. First day of grade 10 and all that jazz.

Actually, no jazz. Apparently, despite all her offerings to the many, many Chinese gods she’s aware of, Chloe Bourgeois is still alive and well and in her class because of course, that’s how her life works.

She nibbles furiously on her lips, scrolling through her tormenter’s Instagram. It’s 4am and she hasn’t slept all night and in about an hour she’ll have to go downstairs and help her parents prepare to open the bakery and she’s probably going to be late today but-

“Holy cow.”

There’s a picture of Chloe and a blond Adonis at the beach. Her arm is around his shoulder, face set in her usual smirk, while he looks somewhat bashful. Tall, tan, the most captivating green eyes she’s ever seen. She stares at the picture for a long minute, before looking at the caption for his handle.

“Adrien... Agreste. That’s-!”

There’s twenty eight more pictures of the two of them, something Marinette isn’t sure how to feel about. She goes back to the first picture and zooms in on his handle again.

She clicks on it, awed, and is met with four hundred and something photos of pure, unbridled perfection. There’s no doubt about it, he’s the son of her idol, world famous fashion designer, Gabriel Agreste. 

And a model.

And Chloe’s boyfriend.

Of course.

She kind of wants to call Niño and have a mental breakdown but he had a gig that lasted until like 2am today – she still doesn’t get how his parents let him stay out so late... actually, they don’t - and he must be asleep. Niño sleeps like the dead. And even if he is awake, he’ll only pick up the phone to yell at her in rapid-fire Spanish before passing out.

So, no.

With an explosive sigh, she flings her phone onto her desk – it skids off and lands on the floor, per usual – and starts to tug off her clothes to take a shower. She’s already laid out her usual outfit the night before but she’s not... exactly feeling it. Blinking at her reflection in the full length mirror, she kind of wants to crawl under the covers and hide. Between the huge bags under her eyes, the startling pallor of her skin and the fact that she can practically see her ribs, she just knows it’s going to be another baggy clothes and makeup day. She’s been having those much too often, on account of her over-anxious, hyper-stressed perfectionist self trying to finish the collection she’s been working on for months now.

Why she bothers, she’s not sure. All the clothes end up gathering dust in her room anyway. 

Whatever.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng glares at the tattoo under her right breast like it’s the cause of all her problems. 

It really isn’t. Just, the one night she goes out with Niño – because he’s always whining about her never coming to see him in action - someone spikes her drink. She doesn’t remember much except puking her guts out and Niño panicking like the worrywart he is. She wakes up naked in his bed – on account of he wasn’t about to let her sleep in her own vomit, the sweetie he is – with the words ‘mauvaise fille’ staring at her, painted on her skin in red ink.

Summer was wild, that’s for sure.

She becomes a hermit for the rest of it, pacifying her parents with, “Inspiration struck! I have to keep working!”

Sometimes, it’s scary, how much trust they have in her. Maybe she’s mad at them for it. She’s mad about a lot of things lately.

Like her chance to meet her idol canoodling with her bully.

She pouts.

Marinette takes longer than is strictly necessary in the bathroom because, if nothing else, her hair is her pride and joy. She’s not sure yet if growing it out again is a smart idea – the last time she had, Chloe made it a point of duty to yank on it every time she walked by, and ended up pulling out some strands. Every. Single. Time. – but her best friend says it looks great and Niño doesn’t give out compliments willy-nilly so she’ll keep it.

She raids her closet for the large purple sweater her grandma gave her for Christmas, pulls it on over lacy underwear, black fishnet tights and jeans, and takes a seat at her vanity. Concealer, light pink eyeshadow, blush and lip gloss, it’s a simple routine she finds almost comforting.

It’s a few minutes past 5 by the time she’s done , and she can already hear the mixer downstairs.

She looks at her reflection again, and smiles. It’s small and not-so-bright but it’s real and that’s enough for her. 

“Always start the day with a smile,” she says to herself. And she feels a little better.

~

“Mornin’, Mari,” Marc greets with a smile. He leans forward to kiss both her cheeks, a little too close to her lips on the second one because he’s a little shit.

He's wearing one of his rainbow shirts, per usual. He has like, a million of them. And the red hoodie she made her mom buy him when they were like 12. It's ratty aand old and she keeps forgetting to buy him a new one. Or make one. He's wearing skinny jeans too, with a chain hanging from some loops and black combat boots that make her weary of sitting next to him.

She glares at him, but the expression has very little heat. She feels a little guilty for ignoring him all break, hiding in her room so if her darling cousin wants to pepper her face with kisses on account of missing her – and oh, how she missed him too – she’s not about to complain.

“Bunny,” she responds. “New boyfriend yet?”

He flicks her ear, making her laugh. “Mean as ever, cousin. I haven’t forgiven you for installing Grind’r on my phone, you know. I forgot it at home when I went to sleep over at Ivan’s house and Mama wanted to bring it to me, and of course that’s when people start sending unsolicited penis pictures.”

Marinette laughs louder, imagining how aunt Lucille’s face must’ve looked. Also, the fact that Marc says ‘penis’ without a shred of shame is hilarious as heck.

“It’s not funny!” He whines, shoving her shoulder. “She wouldn’t speak to me for a week, and it’s not like it was my penis!”

She’s running out of oxygen at this point, and that’s what Niño sees when he saunters into the bakery. He blinks, then decides to totally ignore her.

“Yo, Marc,” he waves. Plopping down beside the boy and almost immediately slumping against his shoulder.

“No coffee?” Marc asks knowingly.

Niño groans. “Mom flipped her shit about it, as usual. She’s not even supposed to be home until, like, tomorrow or something.”

The other boy pats his head, then pauses. “Where’s your cap?”

He shoots up. “Fuck! She took it! I wasn’t paying attention, trying to leave without another argument, but I know she was holding something red. Damn it!”

“One of these days, my mom is going to wash your mouth with soap,” Marinette remarks, finally under control.

“Fuck that,” her best friend waves her off. “I’m not going to school without a cap, and I’m definitely not going back home or else I’ll probably set her clothes on fire. You got something I can borrow?”

She does, in fact. Her last collection was inspired almost entirely by Niño – hip hop with a hint of reggaeton – so of course there’s a cap there.

She looks him over. He’s wearing a black Tee today, one with a tiny alien on the front, and faded blue jeans with red vans. 

“Sure, and ask Mama for a coffee before you pass out. Marc looks all nice and sweet but he will dump you on the floor.” 

She then races upstairs before her cousin can throw something at her. Like his umbrella. He carries that thing everywhere just to throw it at her when she annoys him, she’s sure. It freaking hurts.

Plus it’s pastel pink and it never goes with his outfits since he doesn’t own anything even remotely pink – except his lip gloss – but anytime she mentions it, guess what happens.

She gets whacked.

~

The three of them are walking to school per usual when Marinette remembers.

“Hey, guys, did you know Gabriel Agreste had a son?”

The boys share a look, before facing her with eerily similar expressions and pointing behind her. She turns around, and there’s a billboard of the Adonis.

“Oh. Dang.”

Marc laughs. “Your observational skills definitely haven’t improved, battinette.”

“Why the sudden interest?” Niño queries with a smirk. “Finally have a crush on someone? It’s about time!”

She rolls her eyes. “Please no. He’s Chloe’s boy toy or something.”

“What the fuck?” Niño yelps, the same time Marc groans, ”You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Marinette shrugs. “Saw a few pictures of them on her Instagram. I mean, they might just be really close friends, like you and I, but I really doubt it.”

“I’m more bothered about the fact that we have a crush on the same guy,” Marc sniffs. “I kind of hope he’s bi, but at the same time, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere miss Bourgeois has been.”

They cringe.

“I don’t have a crush on him. I just thought I could meet his dad or something.”

Not like the Gabriel Agreste would give a rat’s ass about some skinny teenager’s clothes, she doesn’t add.

They hear it anyway, and bump shoulders with her. 

“Chin up, dudette. I had an idea for you guys anyway.”

Marinette and Marc share a look. “Us?” They ask in unison.

“Yeah, yeah. Park after school?”

Marc shrugs. “Sure.”

They’re at the front gates now, early, surprisingly, and Marinette hopes she’s imagining Chloe’s laugh.

“Take care, both of you. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Marc gets on his tip toes to kiss them both on the cheek and sashays away.

“He does realize he’s the violent one, right?” Marinette asks.

“Not as long as nobody enters his bubble.”

“...we don’t deserve him,” she says after a bit.

“Nobody does,” he laughs.

First day. What could go wrong?

~

She’s clearly jinxed it.

First, Chloe trips her, causing her to crash into Niño. And end up sprawled on the floor. In front of everyone. Leaving her with a slightly tender ankle and him with a migraine from hitting his head against a desk on the way down.

Everyone somehow including Adrien Agreste. And another new student, Alya Cesaire. Who is smoking hot, by the way. Niño is already head over heels for her.

Then, there’s also a new teacher – and isn’t that a great first impression – Miss Caline Bustier – Niño straight-up snorts in laughter – who is now looking at the two of them like wild animals in a zoo.

And then, when it’s all mostly died down, three classes in, she feels it. A cramp shoots up her stomach and she catches Niño by the elbow, frozen.

“Dudette?” he asks under his breath.

“It’s starting. I stopped keeping track and I’m pretty sure I’m already stained and my period is fucking starting, Niño, why the fuck is this my life?” she whisper-yells back.

He winces in sympathy. When Marinette starts cursing, shit has definitely hit the fan. “I’ve got a jacket in my bag. There’s usually tampons in the girls’ room right?”

“There’d better be,” she whimpers.

So she ties the jacket around her waste, excuses herself from the classroom and starts running to the girls’ bathroom.

And, because fate loves to mess with her, bumps into someone on the way there, knocking them both on their butts.

“...ow.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry but I really need to go!” she blurts, hurrying to her feet and continuing her race.

Luka Couffaine stares after her retreating figure, more worried than offended, and wonders if that was the cousin his friend Marc liked to talk about.


	2. Chapter 2

Adrien low-key regrets coming this morning. Not because he doesn’t want to be there - because oh boy, sitting amongst people his own age that don’t have sticks up their butts is refreshing and calming and can he stay forever, please? – but Chloe is not making things easy. Not that she ever makes things easy for anyone. Ugh. 

He loves her, he really does. She’s opinionated and bold and mean, but she was his first friend and she’d do anything for him. He’s never asked why she put up the bitch persona – because he’s almost 100% sure she’ll cry and when Chloe cries it is heart breaking and he just. Can’t deal. – but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with her mom.

He really, really hates that woman. Second only to his father and Natalie. With absolutely zero respect, fuck them.

Now if only he wasn’t such a coward and could say it to their faces. Heh. That would be the day.

“Holy shit, you’re Adrien Agreste!” someone crows.

She’s about the same height as him, with skin that reminds of a cappuccino and a wide, almost intimidating grin. Her hair is... big. That’s the way he knows how to describe it. She basically has a giant afro with butterfly berets, and it makes her look bigger than she actually is. She’s wearing a black crop top and jeans – GA jeans, his father’s brand. She must be somewhat wealthy – with a white jacket tied around her waist and Nikes.

Smiling for his fans is second nature by now. As is the question, “Would you like an autograph?”  
The girl blinks, before smiling back in a less nice and more about-to-jump-your-bones way. “Oh, definitely. Think we could go somewhere private so you can sign my tits?”

Adrien flushes from the tips of his ears to his neck. No matter how much training and conditioning he receives, these things always seem to catch him off-guard.

Before he can scrounge up a response, a pastel pink umbrella lightly whacks the back of the girl’s head. 

“You’re mean, Yve, toying with him like that,” a smooth, and clearly amused voice intones.   
Adrien observes the newcomer. Inky black hair and green eyes... kind of looks like that girl Chloe tripped this morning, maybe they’re related?

Some part of his mind wants to know why he’s carrying an umbrella in the cafeteria when there is absolutely zero sign of rain. He ignores it, desperately needing to protect his sanity.

“I’m Marc Anciel. This is Yvette Cifer and she is very, very sorry about being a pervert,” the boy aims a flat glare at newly named Yvette, daring her to disagree.

She rolls her eyes. “Freaking prudes, all of you. I’m going to find Mari.”

Marc perks up, tossing him a glance. “Want to eat with us? Or will your owner get mad?”

“My... owner?” he asks, uncomprehending.

And of course that’s when Chloe starts yelling at Sabrina for letting ‘her Adrikins’ out of her sight. He cringes in the face of Marc’s chuckle, somehow managing to awkwardly wave back as the two of them leave.

“Adrikins! There you are!”

He forces himself not to wince at the tone of her voice. She means well, she really does. The last time she’d smuggled him somewhere, they’d gotten kidnapped. If it weren’t for that fox hero, well. He doesn’t like to think about it.

She’s suddenly right there, in front of him. Her skin tight dress is horizontally striped, giving some sort of allusion of curves, signature yellow jacket thrown on top. Her white ankle boots make the foot tapping she’s doing all the more obvious.

“Hey Chloe, missed me already ?” he adds a teasing smirk at the end.

The blonde sniffs. “Rid yourself of that ridiculous notion right this minute, Adrien. You do not get to give me heart attacks like that!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he puts his arm around her shoulder, steering her back to the classroom so they can eat lunch together. Ordinarily, they’d both go home, but he’s pretty sure he’ll be locked in with the key thrown away if that happens. Hence why he’s staying with Chloe for the time being. “I was just socializing.”

Sabrina’s walking behind them, just out of earshot and looking utterly miserable. He doesn’t know why his best friend makes her wear that ridiculous ensemble when it makes her look like a clown.

Then again, he doesn’t know anything about the relationship between them and he’s not about to ask.

Chloe wrinkles her nose, looking at him like she’s just seeing him for the first time. “With Marc?”

“Yeah? You know him?”

“I know what he looks like, but that’s about it. He’s always around Niño and Marinette. He’s gay, you know.”

Adrien blinks. “Niño and Marinette... the one you tripped this morning, yeah?” He takes the roll of her eyes as a yes. “Chloe... don’t tell me you’re homophobic.”

There’s being mean, and then there’s being a bitch. Which, yes, she’s both. But homophobia is on another level all its own, next to racism, ableism, religious intolerance and body shaming. 

“It’s disgusting, Adrikins. And unnatural,” she says with a huff, like that makes sense. And it probably does, to her.

Vaguely, he wonders how on earth they’ve never had this conversation. Probably because he avoids talking about anything that could even remotely lead to an argument. 

A coward, that’s what he is.

But he isn’t this time, as he frowns at his best friend, radiating all the disappointment and displeasure he can – in a way that’s eerily similar to his father – before letting go of her and turning back around. He’s pretty sure he saw the direction Marc and Yvette went in, but if he’s wrong, he’ll find somewhere else and pretend that was the idea the whole time.

One of the many things models learn is how to pretend they’re supposed to be somewhere... even if they really aren’t.

He studiously ignores Chloe’s fuming at the top of the stairs. She’ll get over it in an hour or so.  
He’s honestly more worried about Sabrina, since she’ll definitely be feeling the brunt of Chloe’s anger. Oh well. Not his problem today.

.

“Hey again, pretty boy,” Yvette practically purrs when she sees him. Their table comprises a struck-by-inspiration-and-therefore-scribbling-away-in-his-notebook Marc, a bored Niño who’s rubbing circles on Marinette’s back as she’s slumped against him, a much-too-smug Yvette and – arguably the only sane one – Ivan, who’s peacefully eating his meal.

“Hey again,” Adrien gives a boyish grin, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “Mind if I join you?”

The table is somewhat crowded, though that may be because Ivan seems to take up a lot of space. They all seem pretty close too, and as much as he wants to integrate into the life of a regular teen, he wouldn’t want to intrude.

Ivan blinks at him, then shrugs. He takes that as a yes and sits down next to him.

Somehow, Natalie must have snuck a salad into his bag, the hag. He’s not even hungry – never is between 10 and 2 – but he knows it’ll taste weird later and he’s very particular about not wasting food.

Niño seems to only just notice him, if his surprised stare is anything to go by. He opens his mouth to say something but an umbrella whacks him in the arm before he can get it out.

Marc rolls his eyes. “I knew you were going to say something dumb.” At Niño’s indignant “Hey!” he just laughs, before fixing his gaze on the blond model.

“So, Adonis, what brings you to commoner school?”

“Adonis?” he can’t help but ask. Being very, vey into all sorts of mythology, from Greek to Roman to Japanese – his online gaming friend, LanMu called him a nerd - of course he knows what an Adonis is but. It just. Doesn’t fit.

Marc shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “It’s what Mari called you at first.”

Adrien looks over to her. “Is she... okay?

“’m just peachy. Now can someone please take my cramps away?” comes the muffled response.

Niño laughs, alongside Yvette, while Ivan and Marc smile indulgently.

Adrien winces, thinking of Chloe’s week-long periods that often lead to people losing their jobs because they blinked a certain way she didn’t like. She’s a little better – a smidgeon less cruel, if you will – when he’s around, curling into him as they watch whatever she wants and making him order various sweets at random intervals.

“Did you take any pain relievers?” he asks. He usually has some on hand for when the stress of modelling and piano and fencing and programming gets too much. Which, unfortunately is quite often. Some days he wakes up and speaks a different language all through, because his brain simply cannot process anything. Being a polyglot isn’t that fun, then.

Marinette moves away from Niño a bit, looking a little awestruck. “Huh?” is her eloquent response.

Niño chortles. “Pretty and sweet, who would’ve thought?” And then attempts to dodge the umbrella that attacks him. He fails.

Marinette’s face is really, really red right now. Adrien is kind of worried. He almost reaches over to check her temperature but refrains because, personal space. You don’t touch people without their consent, it’s rude. Also, if she were sick on top of her cramps, he’s pretty sure one of her friends would have taken her to the nurse’s office.

That’s what friends do, right? Chloe would definitely raise hell until he got medical attention if he so much as sneezed twice in a row.

As the dark – is that blue? – haired girl ducked back into Niño’s side, spluttering incoherent things – much to her friends’ endless amusement – he decides she’s probably okay.

And-

“You’re surprised at me being nice?” 

Ivan coughs into his fist, side-eyeing the latino. 

“Considering who your owner slash bae is-“

“Bae?”

“-we’re just being cautious. Why would you want to be here?” Yvette talks over him, for once not looking like she wants to eat him alive. 

She looks scary.

Adrien blinks, once, twice. “First off, Chloe is my best friend. Not my girlfriend. Pretty much my only friend, actually.” He catches Marc’s look of sympathy and ignores it. “Second, you guys invited me? Or were you just being sarcastic? Is this not how to initiate a friendship?”

He’s seen how these things go on television, sure. But he became Chloe’s friend by helping her reach a high shelf in the kitchen of her hotel while their parents talked about... whatever it is they talked about. And then basically did whatever she said. Because that’s what gentlemen do, right?

So. He’s not sure about the friendship thing. LanMu whooped his ass at Call of Duty and suddenly they were teaming up and texting each other memes.

“You left with Chloe first, though. Let me guess, you had to ask permission? Seems like a master – pet thing going on,” the cappuccino skinned girl ploughs on.

Ivan, bless his soul, steps in by flicking her ear. 

Adrien almost slumps in relief because anything he said back would probably lead to an argument and conflict just makes his skin crawl.

“I can leave?” He plasters on a smile so he doesn’t look stupid, mentally cataloguing where else he can go sit. Maybe the other new student, Alya. He can see her out of the corner of his eye, sitting alone at a corner table with her headphones in, typing away on her phone. Huh. Maybe he should’ve sat with her instead. She looks lonely.

Marc puts a hand on top of his first – and he pushes the tingling feeling down, down, down to the depths of his mind. Now is not the time to be a bisexual disaster – stopping his escape. “No, you’re good where you are, hun. Yve is just being the mean mom friend. Sorry if we made you uncomfortable.”

He is not blushing and he will stab anyone who says he is with a plastic spoon.

“Oh. Uh. Thank you?”

Marc laughs lightly, pulling away and shoving Yvette. Hard.

She winces. “I’m sorry. I just- I don’t know what lengths Chloe will go to torment them and I didn’t want to take any chances.”

He nods, understanding. This is probably the part where he’s supposed to valiantly defend Chloe with some ‘she’s not that bad when you get to know her’ nonsense but. Agree to disagree.

“It’s fine,” he tells her. And laughs at their disbelieving faces. He’s terrible at holding grudges, they just make him more stressed.

Ivan clears his throat, extending a hand for him to shake. “Formal introduction then. I’m Ivan.”  
Adrien shakes his hand, slightly awed. How can a person have such a deep, soothing, even voice? That’s the perfect voice for bedtime stories.

Whether they notice his internal flailing or not, nobody comments on it. 

Niño extends his own hand. “Niño Lahiffe. This is my best friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s kind of blind sometimes, so we call her battinette too.” 

Said girl pinches him. Hard. The Latīno yelps.

“We’ve already met, yeah,” Marc says airily. “Marinette’s my cousin and I’m gay. Just putting it out there.”

He doesn’t say Chloe already told him, just shakes incredibly soft hands.

Yvette is last, and she waits until they’re shaking hands to say, ”I will sleep with you,” with a perfectly innocent smile.

He chokes on air, blushing horribly and coughing as they all laugh – even Ivan, whose laughter sounds like thunder but is oddly nice – and wonders if this is, as they say, the start of a beautiful friendship. 

.

He feels a little lighter when school’s over, having exchanged numbers with his new friends.

Friends. He has other friends now. Woah.

Of course, his good mood plummets when he steps outside and sees his driver waiting. He almost grabs Chloe’s hand so he can just go with her in the limo – he has a few clothes in a room that’s practically his at the hotel even though he usually just stays with her, it’ll be fine to camp there until his next photoshoot, which is in two weeks – but decides against it. He can be just a little brave.

So Adrien smiles in the face of his best friend’s concerned gaze and gets in the car.

...and almost immediately leaps out when he sees Natalie in the passenger’s seat. With her deep purple pantsuit and dark hair in a bun, eyeing him through her glasses like his mere existence makes her life unbearable.

“Adrien, your father-“

He puts his headphones on, listening to Adekunle Gold’s Before You Wake Up.

A text message flies in.

LanMu: Guessssss whatttttttt

AGbaby: You got your driver’s licence?

LanMu: No, fuck that, wtf. We’ve been over this, I’ll have a panic attack and run over a cat!

AGbaby: Why is it always a cat?

AGbaby: Also cats have 9 lives

AGbaby: And you know I’m bad at guessing.

LanMu: Whatever, you dork

LanMu: My class is taking a field trip to Paris in two weeks!!

AGbaby: What.

AGbaby: Holy crap, YES!

AGbaby: Shit- text you later. Just got home and I’m in deep shit.

Honestly, he doesn’t get why they had to pick him up – asides the fact that he clearly had no intention of coming home today – when his house is within walkable distance.

Adrien tucks his phone back in his bag alongside the headphones, not waiting for a reply, and ignoring Natalie’s disapproving stare. Gabriel Agreste is waiting. And he does not like to be kept waiting.

He’s about to receive the longest, most boring lecture in the history of lectures, but nothing can bring his mood down now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adrien has probably been to a lot of places, surely he'd be aware of foriegn artists.  
> Adekunle Gold is a Nigerian artist. He's really, really good. Adrien's username is a play on his social media handles. Check him out if you like.
> 
> And... did I just... use two chapters to describe a single day? A day that isn't even over yet? Shitttt


	3. Chapter 3

“So, what’s this big idea?” Marc asks, up on a tree limb. If there’s anything he loves as much as writing, it’s nature. His moms always loved to tell him stories of how they’d take their eyes off him at the park for one minute and he’d be gone, hanging from one tree or the other.

Marinette’s sprawled out on the grass. She may not be as much a fan as he is, but nature does calm her. And if she were in any less pain, she’d be calling him a baby monkey or something equally stupid. She has the weirdest pet names for them.

When they were 10, the three of them promised to buy a house close to a forest. Bonus points if there was a mountain too. It makes him smile every time he thinks about it, since Niño is allergic to any thing even related to plants but made the promise anyway.

It’s ironic that he loves vegetables so much.

The boy in question is seated on a bench, shaking his head with the my-best-friends-are-weirdos-but-I-love-them-anyway smile.

“Just because I left my umbrella on the ground doesn’t mean you’re safe, Niño. I can break off branches and throw them at you,” he warns.

“Calm your non-existent tits, dude,” Niño laughs. “I was thinking about a creative blog, network, thing. Like, a place for artists, but online.”

Marinette peels an eye open. “Go on. We know you, there’s a lot more stuff in that thirty seven track mind of yours. If it was just two sentences, you would’ve told us at school.”

“Plus, he only brings us to parks to bribe us,” Marc pipes up, eyes narrowed. He never asks anything unreasonable, sure, but the fact that he feels the need to bribe them at all seems fishy.

Niño rolls his eyes good naturedly and pulls out his tablet, causing Marc to perk up. The tablet is the first thing he ever bought with his own money, so it’s incredibly dear to him. If he brought it to school, he means business.

“So I did some digging into our classmates,” Niño starts, deftly ignoring Marinette’s huff of laughter. “Did you know Sabrina’s mom is a publisher? Mylené’s dad is an actor – she wants to be one too, but she’s hella camera shy, stage shy... every kind of shy. Nathaniel is an artist and he’s been looking for a writer to make comics with him-“

The Latino watches too much NCIS, and neither of them is surprised that he’s practicing his investigative skills on their classmates. He does it to them all the time.

“Nathaniel,” Marc tries the name on his tongue. “Sounds nice. Who is he?”

Niño texts him a picture of a red haired boy. 

Marc stares, his brain screeching to a halt. He’s a writer, sure. But he’s hard pressed to find the words to describe this beautiful specimen.

“You mean... there’s a guy this freaking cute in your class, and neither of you bothered to tell me?” he whines, finally finding his voice.

“We... don’t know his orientation?” Marinette answers with a wince.

“Please,” he rolls his eyes. “I can make anyone gay.”

He’s exaggerating, of course. Ivan doesn’t count - he's not sure what his orientation is and that's okay - and platonic soulmates is the label they use. No, he’s had awful experiences of cyber and real life bullying in his last school – the main reason his mama got him an umbrella on his first day at Dupont - and been baited more times than he’d like to count. 

But he looks at red hair and sparkling blue eyes and just _wants_.

Oof. Like at first sight, huh?

Niño snorts out a laugh. “You’ll have to get through his best friend, Alix, first. Alix is really into graffiti by the way, and she paints in her spare time, when she’s not roller blading. Makes sense since her dad is an art curator.”

Not a problem.

“Keep going...” Marinette presses.

“Juleka wants to be a model, but is apparently cursed or something? Rose is really into rock music and wants to start a band.”

“Juleka is my classmate’s sister. Luka. He’s hella cute, sadly not my type,” Marc hums. “Oh, and he’s a musician.”

“Tiny, sweet Rose?” his cousin whispers, awed. 

“I know, right? I was just as shocked,” Niño seems so genuinely happy and in his element that Marc can’t help the soft smile that blooms on his face.

“Hey, Niño?” he calls before he can continue. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

Niño stills, blinking rapidly. He really should be used to Marc’s random proclamations of love by now. He does it at the most random moments, like when Niño’s stuffing a burger in his mouth, causing him to start choking and spluttering. 

Marc is mean.

But he’s also a freaking sweetheart, so Niño smiles back at him, mischief in his eyes. “You sound like you want to paint me like one of your French boys.”

Thank you, I appreciate it, he doesn’t say, but it’s heard loud and clear.

“Painting is hell on my patience, you know that. Send me your nudes and I’m good,” the self proclaimed god of the gays retorts with a cheeky grin.

Marinette coughs pointedly, even though there’s a smile pulling at her lips.

Niño laughs. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.” He refocuses on his tablet. “Max’s dad is a movie director and his mom is an inventor, he’s following in both their footsteps. According to Alix, his literal only friend, he’s actually made a short 3D animation series. Remember Go-Go Bot?”

“No freaking way!” Marinette gasps, sitting upright. “I love Go-Go Bot! Remember, Marc? We binged it all in one night!”

“And we watch it whenever I sleep over, I remember,” Marc finishes, stunned.

Go-Go Bot was a ten episode series – with each episode running for about six minutes – about a robot created to design clothes. The robot gets sent back in time somehow and spends their days furiously designing and sewing because medieval England clothing is a disaster, and shooting sewing needles at their enemies.

“Get this; he made it when he was 12,” Niño leans forward like he’s telling some huge secret.  
If Marc were any less of a monkey, he’d have falling right off his tree in shock. “I’m guessing that’s not all he’s done. Why the heck is he still in middle school?”

Niño leans back. “That’s the big question, isn’t it? We’d have to ask him ourselves.”

They fall into a thoughtful silence, only interrupted by honking and French insults.

“Ivan’s mom is a Mui Thai instructor, did you know? And his dad was a sumo wrestler, before he passed. You’ve always wanted to learn self-defence, battinette,” Niño goads.

“I’ll only do it if Marc takes up parkour and you finally learn to ice skate. Watching you two drool over people doing it gets old,” she returns.

Marc hums thoughtfully, hopping down from his tree and landing in a crouch. “Sure, I’ll try clearing up my schedule in October. Niño?”

He pouts. Honest to god pouts. “You weren’t supposed to go with it that easy.” Marinette snorts. “Fine, fine. October. Marc, you’re leaving?”

“Mm. Mama just texted to meet mom at the studio. They’re both working late today and they don’t want me to be home alone ‘til morning,” he sighs. 

“But you could stay with me?” Marinette prods. 

“It’s mom’s birthday, remember? Your dad made the cake.”

“Ohh yeah. Shit. Say hi for me? I have something for her at home, we’ll give it to her tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He leans down to press a kiss on her forehead. “Sorry, Niño, send the rest to our group chat?”

He shrugs. “No biggie, there isn’t much left anyway.” He makes a show of looking at the sky until Marc laughs and kisses him too.

“You big baby. Please get some sleep, okay? And ignore your mom.”

“I make no promises,” Niño shrugs.

“Mari, go straight to bed. No antagonizing yourself at 2am, or cyber stalking the Adonis, understand? If your dark circles are this big tomorrow, I’m drugging you and putting you back in bed.”

She laughs, but she knows he’s dead serious.

“Ja ne,” he tells them with a two fingered salute as he picks up his bag and umbrella.

“Weeb!” They call back at him.

.

Marc was never really given the opportunity to choose if he wanted to be different or not, if you think about it. He has two moms, a Chinese pole dancing and aerials instructor, and a French music producer who writes erotic fiction and is a boudoir model. 

And then he’s gay, knows his way around pole dancing and could probably take charge of a boudoir shoot if pressed.

He’s the one who takes most of mom’s photos anyway. He will personally beat anyone who says it’s weird with his umbrella.

So yeah, he wasn’t given much of a choice. But it is what it is, and that’s what helps him keep his cool when some degenerate tries to bully him.

He’s idly thinking about this at the zebra crossing when an old man hurries past and tries to cross the still busy road. With a curse, he hooks his umbrella in the man’s collar and yanks, deftly catching him in his arms.

“You should be more careful, mister,” he chides with strained smile.

Even though he’s actually pretty shaken that someone almost got run over in front of him.

“Oh, of course, young man. I seemed to have gotten lost in my head. Thank you so very much,” the man admits easily, taking his sweet time to get back on his feet.

Marc blinks at the Hawaiian shirt, brown pants and slippers and thinks the man is lost, period.  
Before he can ask though, the man is gone and Marc notices people cheering for him. Appalled, he ducks down and squeezes out of the crowd, putting his hood up. 

He’ll cross at the next one. People are not his thing. Which is the main reason he's never gone to any of Niño's gigs.

His mom’s studio is pretty close to the private school he used to attend, which is another reason he’s keeping his head down. He isn’t afraid of them, but they come in packs and, high threshold for pain or not, he doesn’t enjoy fighting.

Finally, he reaches the studio and lets out the breath he’s been holding. Aurore, mom’s part-time secretary, blinks questioningly at him as she rises from behind her desk.

She looks like a rainbow threw up on her, but in a good way, if that’s possible. Dressed in a pink sweatshirt and yellow jeans, with green sparkly pumps and her ridiculously long blonde hair braided back with multi coloured pins shoved in, it’s something only she could pull off. And from the sharp look in her cloudy grey eyes, she’s daring him to comment.

He doesn’t.

She smirks. “You okay, sugar?”

“I’m good,” he closes the distance and accepts her offered hug without complaint. “What’s the day been like?”

Aurore hums. “Got my invitations today. I’ve given yours to your mom so you’d better come watch me become the new weather girl,” she tweaks his nose for good measure, laughing when he pouts at her.

She’s been talking about it for weeks, and he’s really, really rooting for her.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. But... hey, does that mean you’ll stop working here?”

He knows it does, but he wants to hear it. Aurore is... off, sometimes. Mom had found her behind a club one night she and Mama went dancing. She had negligent parents and a junkie boyfriend who’d gotten her addicted too. With all of their help – and sometimes yelling – she’d sought therapy and was now taking online classes at a nearby college. 

Marc will miss her. Even if she can’t cook worth shit – who the hell burns water? – and her singing voice could drive someone to murder, she was nice. A big sister figure, if you will.

Never mind that Mari is technically older than him. He whacks her with the umbrella whenever she tries to remind him.

“I guess it will. Huh. I’ll miss you, squirt,” she moves forward and he backpedals rapidly.

“Stay the hell away from my hair!” Marc whines.

Aurore puts her hands behind her back, feigning innocence. “Me? Touch your hair? Nooooo, I just wanted to tell you who your mom’s in the studio with.”

He narrows his eyes at her tone. “...who?”

That’s exactly when Jagged Stone slams the door open with way too much force, strutting out with his crocodile on a leash.

Marc’s jaw drops open. 

His assistant – and probably lover, because really, Jagged is extra as hell and only love would make you stay with him for extended periods of time – follows, quieter and less dramatic, talking and laughing with his mom.

Allegra Anciel-Cheng brightens when she sees him, looping an arm around Penny’s shoulders to steer them in his direction. “And this is my baby, Marcus!”

Marc groans, not even caring that one of the top five rock stars in the world is snickering at him with his pet. “Mom, no. We’ve talked about this!”

His mom gives him a blank look, but there’s mirth dancing in her eyes. “Really? When?”

Penny Rolling takes over smoothly. “When your mother kept ranting about her precious baby, I was kind of expecting a five year old.”

He pouts, then turns his attention to Jagged, who lifts a wary brow as his eyes light up. Marc rifles through his bag, pulling out one of the many, many pictures he’s taken of Mari when she’s not looking – she’s got her face scrunched up in concentration here, tongue out as she tries to pull thread through a needle – and a pen, practically skipping up to the man.

“Hi! My friends are your biggest fans, could I get your autograph for them?”

Jagged Stone is not a people person. He knows this because he religiously follows up on the man, and he’s literally only ever with Penny, Fang and his manager. Not in a stalker way though. He may or may not have had a crush on him at some point.

That’s probably how his thing for guys with brightly coloured hair started.

Anyway, the point is the man eyes him like he’s going to explode, before chuckling and ruffling his hair. “Sure, why not?” He takes one look at the picture and starts full-on laughing. “Are you sure this is the one you want me to autograph?”

Marc bobs his head, looking through his bag for something the man can autograph for Niño. He doesn’t need anything for himself, he can easily take photos of their stuff and save them to the cloud or something.

His fingers brush against a velvet box and he pauses, touching it again. Hexagonal, small. He peers at it. Black with a red dragon thing on top. He lifts a brow but resolves to check it later, instead picking one of Niño’s pictures – where he was attempting to twerk, on a dare – and offering it to the rock star.

“You’re a mean little photographer, aren’t you?” the man asks, as he takes it.

“I try,” Marc returns with a cheeky smile.

“Baby, Jagged is going to be in and out of the studio for the rest of the week. He can sign anything you want,” his mom chides from behind him.

“Ohh, sweet! Then Mari and Niño can meet you tomorrow? If that’s okay?”

He hopes it’s okay. When big names like his come around they tend to do things hush-hush so they can avoid the paparazzi. Both his mothers hate journalists anyway, for reasons they haven’t told him yet.

“That’s a great idea. We need an album cover and I know Marinette is wonderful at such things,” Allegra nods sagely.

Jagged and Penny perk up at once, the former observing his cousin’s photo more closely. “Well she certainly looks like she’s dedicated,” the man says.

Penny snorts from where she’s moved to basically melt into his side.

“Too dedicated,” Marc says with a fond roll of his eyes.

He makes eye contact with his mom in a silent question. The pair of them look exhausted, god only knows how long they’ve spent here. Her lips twitch into a smile.

“Alright, we’ll see you both tomorrow. And please don’t keep Penny up too late, hm?”

Marc and Aurore snicker at their suddenly flushed faces and his mom walks them out through the back, where their Porsche is waiting.

He uses the opportunity to duck into her office and call both his friends, while eyeing the box.  
Niño picks up first, laying on Marinette’s loveseat and laughing like the freaking hyena he is. Marinette is on cross legged on the floor, a cup in her hand. Green tea, most likely.

“Heyo, crazy people. Niño sleeping over?”

“Yep. I know I said I’d try but then she texted me things I’d rather not repeat so now I’m here. Can’t be charged for arson, you know,” Niño shrugs, mood sobering.

“Only you would think fire is a solution, you pyro,” Marinette scolds, mock stern.

“Okay, okay. Guess what,” Marc grins.

They share a look. 

“You’re sugar high?” Mari asks, at the same time Niño says, “You assassinated Chloe?”

There’s a pause, as both cousins stare incredulously. The Latino throws an arm up in surrender. “What? That grin spells danger and you know it!”

Marc rolls his eyes, then holds up the autographed photos to his phone camera.

“Is that-“

“You promised you wouldn’t take pictures!” Niño screeches.

“-Jagged Stone’s signature?” Marinette finishes, ignoring the other boys distressed wails.

“Yep,” Marc’s smile is sharp. “He’s recording here for the rest of the week, and he said he’d be okay with meeting you. And he needs an album cover so mom recommended you.”

Marinette is awed. “I love your mom.”

Niño whistles, low and impressed. “I’d better get something badass for her tomorrow.”

“She won’t mind either way,” he shrugs. Then rotates his camera to point at the box on the desk. “Found this in my bag. Is it yours?”

Marinette squints, then shakes her head.

“I don’t own anything that fancy,” Niño says. “Open it. Maybe your secret admirer proposed.”

The cousins snort in sync. As if.

Carefully, he lifts the lid and all of a sudden there’s a bright, white light and when it clears, there’s a tiny red floating creature insect thing.

“Greetings! I am Longg, the kwami of-“

Marc closes the box. The thing disappears.

There’s a beat of silence, before-

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

What the hell indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aurore is in Ms Mendeliev's class, you say?  
> Shhhh, just go with it.
> 
> Okay now I want Go-Go Bot.  
> But really, how does a boy invent a freaking robot with artificial intelligence and he's still in middle school? How?
> 
> *in Cardi B's voice* Shit is getting real
> 
> Come on. Freaking Batman has people who know who he is out of the mask. Wtf were they doing with MLB? Trying to say asides Hawkmoth's Akumas there's no crime in Paris? Granted, the police likely takes care of it, but still.
> 
> Also, I thought Kagami attended a different school? Hence the uniform? But the wiki says she attend Dupont? What?!


	4. Chapter 4

Niño is a surprisingly light sleeper, according to his friends. He doesn’t know what’s surprising about it. 

Being able to fall asleep in the blink of an eye and wake up at the slightest sound aren’t mutually exclusive. 

Possibly the most surprising thing is his hearing. It’s 5am and he can hear the mixer on downstairs, and the couple that lives in the next building having makeup sex after they fought all through the night – which nearly drove him insane – and the cats in the alley nearby, meowing up a storm. If he concentrates enough, he can hear the low hum of morning prayers from the family that lives just below the possibly toxic couple.

It’s for this reason that he absolutely cannot stand his mother yelling. It fucking _hurts_ and she just gets louder and louder and she never listens to him.

He’s worried he’ll lose his hearing one day, and the thought is terrifying.

So yeah, the noises woke him today.

Marinette is still asleep, in the bat pyjamas him and Marc had gotten her as a gag gift, and doesn’t seem to be in any pain. Considering the first and second days are usually the hardest, and she pulled an all nighter two nights ago, he thinks it’s fine to let her sleep some more. He can’t decorate cakes worth shit, but mixing and measuring, he can help with. 

And rolling dough. That part is always neat.

With that in mind, he rolls off the bed and – only swaying a little – makes his way to the pile of boxes tucked behind her loveseat. She has them full of clothes she designed for her friends – that is, him, Marc, Ivan, Yvette and Aurore – for the mornings after their sleepovers. Niño’s entire closet consists ninety percent of Marinette’s clothes.

He finds the one labelled ‘DJ Alien’ just underneath ‘Baby Monkey’, and rifles through it, eventually selecting a purple T shirt, and, as an afterthought, a jean jacket with dead roses on the back. For the aesthetic, of course.

He determinedly does not think about the tiny creature thing Marc showed them yesterday while he showers. They’ll deal with it at school.

Marinette already had a million panic attacks, worrying that it would eat her favourite cousin or something. He has to be the level headed one.

Secretly, he thinks the Chengs just like taking in strays, and he’s surprised all the cats in the neighbourhood don’t already fill their building. First, Marc’s moms took in Aurore, now Marinette’s parents have basically taken him in. Mari even jokes about them setting their sights on Kim.

Kim is a twat. Niño doesn’t buy that troubled kid crap and he doesn’t like him.

Walking down to the bakery, slipping on an apron and getting a kiss on his forehead from Sabine is familiar and soothing, and there’s a smile on his face as he works and jokes with Tom.

“When will Mari be up?” her mother asks when it’s a few minutes past 7.

Niño pulls the sixth batch of muffins out before responding. “Pretty sure she’s already awake, but I’ll go check.”

He scales the stairs two at time because his patience is selective, and is promptly tackled when he gets in.

“Wha-“

Marinette peppers his face with kisses. "ThankyouThankyouThankyou-!" And then she's off like a shot, rifling through her closet for something to wear.

She’s already halfway to the shower, frantic in her movements, by the time his brain starts working again.  
He's a teenage boy, okay? Cut him some slack.

“Can you not panic so much? You needed the rest and I covered for you. Chill.”

“It’s 7:15am. I never get up this late!”

“Not even after an all nighter plus your period?” he queries, arms folded. He’s definitely not qualified to be some sort of therapist – yet – but he really wishes he could show her exactly what’s wrong with her habit of pushing herself to reach some ridiculous standard. It’s _dangerous_ on the long run.  
And this is coming from the guy who keeps a lot of late nights and is addicted to coffee.

“Marinette, the world isn’t going anywhere. There’s no reason to keep trying to catch up.”

“You’re don’t get to decide that for me!" She shoots back and it's a half whine, half yell. “You don’t get to act like you’re better than me because you’ve got your life planned out! You-“

“Kids, Marc’s here!” Tom calls from downstairs. 

"Okay, papa!" She calls back, voice strained but not as angry, at the same time he says, "Down in a minute!"

Hearing Niño speak seems to kick her brain back into gear and she turns to him, eyes wide and hands clapped over her mouth.

He doesn’t look at her. He can’t .

“I’ll go see if he’s good. You... shower at the speed of light, yeah?” 

“Nino...” she starts.

He ignores her, starting down the stairs. He has every right to be mad at her, that was a low blow. But, nobody likes to be mothered – except him, apparently, judging from the way he practically melts into Marc’s side, unbothered by his teasing – or given unsolicited advice.

“Morning, Niño. You okay?” Marc murmurs into his hair.

“Peachy. How ‘bout you? Mari thought that thing would get bigger during the night and you were going to get eaten.”

Acting like this is normal. It’s something he can deal with. It’s easy – almost too easy – to tamp down on the hurt and push it to the back of his mind. 

He’s fine. Why wouldn’t he be?

The other boy laughs. “So little faith in me, even after all these years.”

“Remember when you thought there were monsters under your bed and she tried to stay up all night with a broom to get it?”

“How could I forget? “ The memory leaves Marc shaking in laughter. “You know, maybe that’s where her nocturnal tendencies started.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn it started with her Vampire Diaries obsession,” Niño snorts.

“Hey, don’t knock it til you try it,” Marc chides, shoving him slightly. “The cast was actually hot as hell.”

“Doesn’t make up for lazy writing, overuse of clichés and the unholy amounts of _glitter_.”

“Vampires are unholy, that’s the entire point!”

Marc would’ve continued to wax on and on about it of his phone hadn’t vibrated.

“Oh, Adonis can’t come today. Was up all night for some music video shoot and now he’s bone tired. Look, he sent a selfie,” he tilts his phone so Niño can see it.

Adrien’s sprawled out on his bed, most likely - the rumpled sheets and Batman plushie give it away - somehow looking photogenic even with bags under his eyes.

“...hold up, is he naked?” Niño asks, sitting up straighter.

The tan boy is notably bare, and the photo only shows from his belly button upward.

Marc snorts in laughter. “I was just going to ask this. Let's find out."

Before the Latino can properly react, Marc's hit the video call button, smiling cheekily at him when he tries to take the phone. "Damnit, Marc, the guy's tired!"

"That's not why your face is red, Niño," he cackles, causing him to flush even darker.

"Uh... hi?" 

They cease their bickering at the unsure tone of Adrien's voice. "Hey, wow you still look pretty as heck," Marc comments. "Niño, don't you think he looks pretty as heck?" 

He angles the phone so they can both see him better- and wow. Adrien is laying on his back, in a bed - totally called it - that's probably unnecessarily large and underneath a black duvet. The entire thing - pillowcases and sheets too is - is black - most likely silk too - and it makes his already tan skin sort of glow, even with the clear signs of exhaustion.

"Pretty, and pretty tired. You should get a lot of sleep, dude," is Niño's tactful response.

"If I go to bed now, it'll ruin my entire sleep schedule," Adrien practically whines. "Plus I have fencing practice in like an hour."

"You what." Niño deadpans. First Marinette, now this one too. 

He opens his mouth, then shuts it. Then mentally smacks himself. Marinette blew up at him because he’d meddled a little too much. Adrien, however, only has Chloe as a friend – and isn’t that just a nightmare? – so logically he probably wouldn’t be as bothered by Niño’s mother hen tendencies. Might even like it?

"Sleep. Even if it's just for thirty minutes, then take a hot shower. Capisce?"

Marc obviously notices how he takes a little too long to speak, but he doesn’t draw attention to it because he’s and angel.

Adrien laughs nervously, having kind of seen that one coming. "Alright, alright. You guys go- Wait where are you? It looks familiar!"

"It's the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Marinette's family owns it," Marc shrugs.

The blond's eyes seem to bug out of his head before he says, "That's where my parents met. But since mother..." His expression tightens for a second in clear pain. "I’ve seen pictures. Father doesn't go there anymore. And I've never gotten the chance."

Camille Agreste is a sore spot for all of Paris. Being the wife of a world famous fashion designer, and an award winning actress, of course she was well known. But that isn’t all she was known for.

In fact, as much as possible, Camille Agreste tried her hardest not to use her husband’s name.

There's an elementary school in her name in downtown Paris where she taught literature whenever she could get out of the public eye. Nobody really knew her reasons, but at the very least, it was a well known fact the she was not a fan of the paparazzi.

Then again, nobody is. They just learn to deal with it.

She volunteered at homeless centers, had several fundraisers for the orphaned and the homeless. Camille Agreste simply loved children, and she did everything she could for them. 

Her visits and activities didn’t stop when she had Adrien though. On the contrary, she took him with her.   
As someone who had come from nothing and worked her hardest to get where she was – despite what the tabloids might say – she knew her son would likely always get whatever he wanted on a silver platter. She needed him to never take his privilege for granted, or use it as an excuse to look down on those less fortunate than him.

Her sudden disappearance six years previous had all but shaken the foundations of Paris. Of France as a whole, in fact. There was never a trace, never a clue that the police force could follow. 

After that, the already elusive Gabriel Agreste stopped making public appearances. And Adrien? He only got to see the world through photoshoots and fencing tournaments. 

Paris once had a peacock superhero as well, and they’d also disappeared on the same day as Camille. Some people like to think Camille was the peacock hero, which would honestly make a lot of sense. The question, though, would be what happened, and if they are even still alive somewhere.

“Wait, so you mean Marinette parents know your parents? Like they've met the Gabriel Agreste?” is Marc’s question after the awkward silence has stretched a little too long.

Niño would like to know as well. 

Adrien blinks at them. “Well, yeah? Father and Mr Tom were friends in middle school until they fell out. And then mom met Mrs Sabine at University so when she got married and opened their bakery, both of them were invited to the opening. They hit it off and there came me.”

Marc and Niño share a look. “Well. That’s …new,” the Latino offers.

“It’s probably safe to say my mom knew yours too then, because she and Mari’s mom – that’s aunt Sabine – were roommates in university,” Marc hums thoughtfully. 

There’s another silence, each boy processing the information and not quite sure what to say. Marinette breaks it this time, thundering down the stairs. 

Niño doesn’t so much as blink.

“Guys we’re going to be so late! Why didn’t you come drag me out of the shower?! I-“

The rest of her sentence is unintelligible as she’s stuffed a muffin in her mouth. 

The boys exchange a fond, exasperated look.

“Alright, Adonis, we’ll talk to you after school. Sleep. We’ll know if you don’t,” Niño ends with a mock stern glare. The blond just laughs, ending the call.

.

Niño knows Marc can probably tell something’s up. He has a sixth sense for such things. Writer and all.

Then again, it’s pretty obvious. They usually walk in the Mari – Niño – Marc order, or Niño – Mari – Marc. Today, Marc is in the middle and that’s just a dead giveaway. 

There’s also the fact that nobody’s talking. Marinette’s on her phone, headphones up. Marc gives them both flat, unimpressed looks, then walks ahead, swinging and twirling his umbrella like a baton.

Whatever. He’s not mad. Frustrated, maybe. Hurt, yeah. But not mad. He’s not his mom. He won’t blow up at her if she tries to apologize. 

Oh. That’s it then. She’s doing to him what he does to his mom and he hates it. Figures.

The realization doesn’t do much, except make him wonder if this is how his mother feels when he’s away. Knowing he’s distant and it’s her fault. Does the guilt get to her maybe? Does she still hold his father’s picture and sob?

Niño sighs, shaking his head to get rid of the thoughts. Then stares, realizing they’re at school already. 

“Bye, idiots,” is what Marc says after giving them both their kiss. He doesn’t wait for their response. 

Marinette looks at his retreating figure with a worried frown, then up at Niño who just blinks at starts walking to class.

Yeah, this is going to be a long day.

.

“You’re look… low,” Luka says as a greeting, settling next to Marc in their seat. “Lower than usual, I mean,” he adds when his friend doesn’t respond. 

That does it. Marc looks up from his notebook, eyes narrowed. “It’s is not my fault you’re a freaking giraffe, Couffaine.”

Luka puts his hands up in surrender, but the cheeky smile in his face says he’s far from remorseful. “So, what’s wrong?”

Marc sighs, dramatic as ever, much to the amusement of their classmates. “ Marinette and Niño are fighting. Or, they fought, but I don’t know why and now they’re not talking and I _hate_ it.”

“Friends fight from time to time, Marc,” Luka shrugs, not seeing an issue.

Marc eyes him, from his black, slicked back hair with icy blue tips, to his black studded earrings, to his white long sleeved shirt paired with a blue-black flannel jacket and dark blue jeans That had a silver chain hanging from two loops, to-

“Luka, is that my chain?”

Luka looks down at his jeans, blinks, and looks back at Marc. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. “

Marc can feel his brow twitch. “The chain I forgot last summer when we had a sleepover? And kept asking you about? And you asked Juleka to tell me it’d probably fallen in the water?”

Because, for whatever reason, Luka lives on a ship, with his sister, Juleka, and their mother, Anarka. Apparently they were descended from a long line of Pirates, and their mother was all too eager to embrace their heritage. Even if their grandparents lived on land.

“Oh, that chain?,” Luka hums, observing it again. “Yeah, it looks like this is it. Thanks for giving it to me, by the way.” 

“You’re welc- Wait what the fuc-!”

Luka brings out the worst in Marc. But like, in the best way possible. 

.

The morning sort of flies by and it’s lunchtime before he knows it. 

Niño groans. He definitely hadn’t learned a single thing today. He’d switched seats with Alix – who normally sits with Ivan – which had definitely helped some. Ivan isn’t a talker, simply lifting a brow when Niño asks to sit there. Whatever he sees in Niño’s face makes him shrug, which is as good as a yes.

Marinette’s been looking back at him all morning though, and that hasn’t helped his concentration any. Thankfully, he’d decided to record all the classes, that way he can go over them later.

The walk to the cafeteria is fine, until he realizes there’s three spaces left and he can’t choose the seat furthest away because that would be suspicious as hell. Ivan and Marc might let them be, but Yvette? Yvette will skin them both. 

He starts to look around, somewhat frantically, before he spots Alya making a beeline for the empty table she’d used yesterday. Niño sides up to her, and she freezes, turning slowly to look at him.

“Hey, Alya. I was wondering if you’d like to join us for lunch? My name’s Niño, by the way,” he says, simple and straight to the point. He lips quirk up at the sound of someone choking on their drink at the table he gestures to. 

She eyes him, but there’s a smirk pulling at her lips too. “This is sudden. What’s the catch?”

“A catch? “ Niño asks with a mock gasp. “You wound me, fair maiden.” He has absolutely no idea what he’s doing but it’s _fun_.

“That’s bad thang to you, Niño,” Alya says with an exaggerated hair flip that honestly wouldn’t look out of place on Chloe. 

Wait-

He stiffles a laugh. “Right, my bad. Would you do me the honor is joining us for lunch, Miss Bad Thang?”

She beams, and Niño feels his breath leave him at the sight of her dimples. Fuck. He’s doomed.

“Uh… great! Yes, uh, follow me.”

As they reach the table, they find Marc and Yvette grudgingly handing five Euros each to Ivan, who seems extremely proud of this development. 

Niño really doesn’t want to know. 

“Guys, meet Alya. Alya, meet Ivan, Yvette, Marc, and Marinette.”

He doesn’t notice how Marinette’s smile flickers at her name. Just Marinette. Not, ‘my best friend, Marinette’.

The rounds of hello’s and hi’s are disrupted by a loud crash, and everyone turns to see- 

“Is that Sabrina?”

Yes. Sabrina in a clown outfit, holding Chloe in the air, by her throat.

The cafeteria is silent, tense, so her voice carries when she says,

“My name is Harlequin. Today, Chloe Bourgeois dies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a very long list of excuses but I'll save them for later. I missed you all, don’t forget to comment

**Author's Note:**

> Mauvaise fille – bad girl  
> So I’m... basically rewriting Miraculous ladybug? Yeah, kind of. Changed backstories, messed around with relationships and all that jazz. Thoughts?


End file.
